The Misfit

I banked the plane into the clouds the tundra's static surface

Drops beneath the spinning wheels of matter and of purpose

The Misfit's empty presence drags me to the earth and matter

The sun stops my waking dream

Much sadder, much sadder, much sadder

Alone among assembled souls it's later in the evening

Back on land and holding fast to poisons and their seasons

He interlaced his fingers round my spine, between my ribs

Now I know that people die by telling themselves fibs

Climb inside the cockpit and he's hanging on the wing

I look away, he slides inside, I sing I sing I sing

Floating in the air, my body's still chained to my bed

I wander through the walls; I wonder if I'm dead

Down below I see my shadow slide across the lake

His hand is on my shoulder, squeeze until, squeeze until it breaks